


The Evil Eye of Accusation

by zinke



Series: Dwell Series [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Bromance, F/M, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-08
Updated: 2010-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-12 04:36:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All those alternate realities; you didn't get even a little suspicious?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Evil Eye of Accusation

**Author's Note:**

> This is something of a sequel to 'Perhaps it Does do to Dwell'; you should probably read that fic first in order to fully understand what's happening here. This story was written at the request of fellow DFG and all-around fabulous person digitalred93 who very much wanted to see a serious fic in which Daniel finally realized what was going on between Jack and Sam.
> 
> Thanks go to zaleti for the suggestions and sorely needed tense control.

"Jack."

Sighing audibly, Jack drops his gaze from its perusal of the night sky and tightens his grip on the steel-bristled brush in his hand. "Daniel," he replies evenly, bending to take a vigorous scrub at a particularly stubborn bit of char stuck to the grate of the cabin's cooling gas grill.

A few seconds later the man himself steps into Jack's line of sight, a pair of open longnecks held between his fingers. After a moment's hesitation – intended mostly for show – he accepts, nodding his thanks as he raises the bottle to his lips and takes a long, slow draught.

It's a poor excuse for a peace offering, but it's certainly better than the alternative. Jack's been on the receiving end of Daniel's thinly veiled looks of reproach quite enough for one evening. Or _any_ evening, for that matter.

Besides, it'd be a shame to put good beer to waste.

Jack shifts uneasily on his feet, waiting impatiently for Daniel to get whatever this is going to be started. Daniel's never really been the 'wait 'em out' type; his usual MO tends to involve jumping right in and slowly talking the other person to death. But much to Jack's surprise, Daniel remains uncharacteristically quiet. And as the silence stretches on between them, Jack begins to wonder if maybe, just maybe, this time Daniel will do the sensible thing and leave well enough alone.

After nine years, he really, _really_ should have known better.

"So…" Daniel begins to pick at the bottle's label, a sure sign Jack isn't going to like whatever it is he's about to say. "About earlier—"

"What about it?"

"When were you going to tell me?"

"Nothing to tell," Jack replies with as much nonchalance as he can muster.

"Jack—"

"Oh for cryin' out loud, Daniel. It was a _conversation_. Carter and I have them all the time."

"Not like that one, you don't."

As much as he hates to admit it, Daniel kind of has a point. Jack can count on one hand the number of times he and Carter have allowed themselves to venture so far into such dangerous emotional territory.

Without his fully realizing it Jack's mind begins to drift, his pulse quickening as he remembers the glorious feeling of Carter's lips against his cheek, the comforting weight of her hand, warm and soft, in his own…the twenty-three times since then he's caught Daniel shooting him the evil eye of accusation….

Dammit.

Daniel had been _asleep_ , for cripes sake – or so Jack had thought. If Daniel happens to be upset about what happened, he has no one to blame but himself.

So then why the hell does Jack feel so damn _guilty_ about it?

Closing the grill's lid with more force than is probably necessary, Jack turns to fix Daniel with what he hopes is a commanding stare before starting purposefully for the cabin's back door. "So…dessert?"

Unfortunately, even the promise of blueberry pie doesn't seem to be enough to deter Daniel from his self-imposed mission. Jack makes it exactly three and a half steps before Daniel moves between him and the door, effectively cutting off his escape.

"Nothing happened," Jack insists, adding a muttered, "Yet," before he can stop himself.

"But…you want it to."

Oh, does he ever. Not that he'd ever admit as much to Daniel. Not in a million years.

Daniel seems to take his lack of response as an affirmation, because a few moments later he asks, "And Sam?"

Jack stuffs his free hand into his pocket and says nothing; after all, it isn't like Daniel doesn't already know the answer. He was there earlier this afternoon; heard and probably saw everything. If he still isn't able to put two and two together, Jack certainly isn't going to be the one to help him figure it out.

"Wow. I…had no idea."

To say that Daniel's response isn't what Jack's expecting would be the grossest of understatements. The guy's _supposed_ to be a genius, after all. "You're joking," Jack replies flatly, fixing Daniel with an incredulous stare.

"No, I'm not."

"All those alternate realities; you didn't get even a little suspicious?"

"I figured it was just some sort of fluke."

Jack is sure that, if Carter were here, she'd be able to speak – in exhaustive detail – to the relative plausibility of Daniel's claim – just as soon as she'd gotten over her mortification that this particular conversation was happening in the first place. Despite of Daniel's glowering at the dinner table Carter seems to have remained miraculously oblivious to the fact that their…whatever it was had been overheard. And Jack has every intention keeping it that way.

He has _plans_ , thank you very much – plans that most definitely do _not_ include Carter shying away from either him or what happened this afternoon because of one nosy archaeologist. "Yeah, well…"

Daniel gives him a brief, uncomfortable grin and looks away. But Jack isn't fooled; he can practically _hear_ the other man thinking, coming up with all sorts of questions to ask in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, Jack will give him a straight answer to one of them.

Apparently, these past nine years haven't taught Daniel much of anything, either.

Shaking his head, Jack takes a sip of his beer and makes his way over to lean against the deck rail, figuring that at this point, for better or worse, he's committed to the conversation.

"Sam was about to get married."

Okay, so for the worse, then. "Yes, she was."

"To someone else."

Sizing up the situation, ultimately decides that the best way to combat Daniel's rather annoying recitation of the obvious is to give as good as he's getting. With a little luck, watching Daniel squirm will be amusement enough to keep Jack from giving in to the alternative and strangling the man. "I am aware."

"And you were _okay_ with that?"

"Define 'okay'."

Daniel pauses to study him with a deliberateness usually reserved for a particularly obscure alien artifact. It's enough to set Jack's teeth – and every other part of him – on edge. "Jack…Is this," Daniel finally asks, casting a significant gaze towards the kitchen where Carter's helping Teal'c wash the dinner dishes, "the reason why she—"

" _No_ ," Jack insists forcefully, and even he is surprised by the underlying venom in his tone.

He shouldn't be this angry; not really. After all, it isn't like Jack hasn't been asking himself the same question ever since Carter showed up for this trip sporting an uncharacteristically shy smile and a decidedly naked ring finger. But to hear someone else – anyone else – actually give voice to it makes the possibility just a little too real for his liking.

"No," he says again, his voice no more than a hiss as he turns to Daniel with a warning look he hopes leaves absolutely no room for misinterpretation.

"Okay! Okay, I'm sorry," Daniel says hastily. "I just…had to ask."

"Yeah, well. You shouldn't have."

Daniel holds his gaze for several seconds before nodding slowly. He doesn't say or ask anything else; instead he swallows down the last of his beer and, after setting the empty bottle at his feet, moves to join Jack against the railing.

Apparently, Jack realizes with a small thrill of triumph, it _is_ possible to exhaust Daniel and his seemingly endless supply of questions.

Or so he hopes. Daniel's gaze is fixed pointedly on the tips of his shoes, which means this could go one of two ways: he's either moved on to contemplating other things such as whether or not they've got enough coffee for breakfast tomorrow morning, or he's busy marshalling his energies for round two.

Jack seriously hopes it's the former.

 

He's on the verge of reintroducing the idea of pie – something of a preemptive strike, just in case – when Daniel offers carefully, "You know, you really should tell Teal'c."

Pausing mid-sip, Jack glances sideways to give Daniel a look.

"Right," Daniel snickers.

Jack can't decide whether he's pissed-off or relieved by the other man's tone. In any case, though Jack's not exactly sure how or why it seems that things between him and Daniel are going to be okay.

"Sir?"

Thus leaving him blissfully free to dwell on other, more pressing – not to mention pleasurable – concerns.

"Carter," he proclaims with perhaps slightly more cheeriness than is warranted as he takes in the sight of her standing silhouetted in the doorway. "Please tell me this means it's finally time for pie."

"With ice cream," she replies giving him one of those knowing, indulgent smiles that never fail to make him feel…all sorts of warm, fuzzy things no self-respecting, highly decorated Air Force General would ever admit to feeling. Especially when someone like Daniel is standing right here watching the two of them – yet _again_.

If this thing between him and Carter is going to go anywhere, they're all really going to have to work on their timing. Preferably before Jack loses what little remains of his sanity.

"Sweet," Jack says, taking immense pleasure in the small huff of laughter he hears from Carter as she turns to go back inside. The moment loses something, however, when Jack discovers that Daniel seems to be just as amused by the exchange as he is.

It seems their little conversation has done wonders for Daniel's somewhat variable ability to read between the lines.

 _Great._

Determining that there's little he can do about it now, Jack cocks an eyebrow at Daniel and gestures grandly towards the open door. "Shall we?"

"After you."

Jack does his best to ignore the smug grin and shrewd gleam in the other man's eye as together they head inside for pie.

 

*fin.*


End file.
